Hot, rowdy jungle music pulsed through the otherwise still night air. The club which was it's source was an underground establishment that was about a mile outside of town, one that the cops were virtually oblivious to, but one that all of Sunnydale's teen aged population whispered about on Monday mornings, when they should have been listening to their English teachers lectures. And everyone was whispering.

There was only a single light on it's exterior, just above the door where the bouncer pretended to check ID's. A long line of glam-ified rave-goers twisted around it's dark brick walls. Adorned in feathers and glitter and rhinestones, they waited anxiously to step inside an be lost amoung the mob of bodies jumping and dancing to the strong, wild music. Waiting to lose themselves under the strobes and beams of light, to surrender to the rhythm and the drugs and the drinks, to get as close as they could to someone and then lose themselves together.

The bar was just as crowded as the dance floor. Guys and girls hung on eachother. Guys tested out pick up lines, girls tested out new flirting techniques. Some girls got offended and yelled or ignored them, the guys moved on to the next one, who might have been flattered or high and pulled them into the restrooms, and on it went.

In the middle of the bar stood a tall dark man. His PVC pants flashed when one of the beams caught them, his tight long sleeved shirt clung to his well muscled physique. He looked up and down the length of the bar for someone to focus his energy on, but he didn't like any of the girls he saw so he looked over his shoulder at the dance floor. Again, no luck. None of them really grabbed his attention, they were all either too desperate or blitzed out of their minds. They would all be too easy. Not enough of a challenge. He needed someone he could charm, someone he could dazzle. He turned back to the bar to nurse his disapointment with the last of his drink, and just as he had swallowed the last drop of thick burning liquor something caught his eye. A head of bright red hair at the end of the bar.

One of the pusling spotlights swiveled around and fixed itself on the back of her head. The rhinestones she had in her hair grabbed the pusles of light and seemed to explode in little bursts, one after another. He couldn't see her face but he knew she was looking back at him, he could feel it. And it made him want to smile. She turned her head away from him shyly and the spotlight lit up her face. A young face. Young but strong. She was quite a bit younger than him, he figured, maybe only sixteen. She was prim and proper against the background of groping, sweaty teen agers. She gazed around at the people in the club in a shy, dreamy way. Everyone was ignoring her. She was alone in the sea of bodies. Insignificant. No one cared about her.

He put down money for his drink and started to make his way over to her. As he drew closer, his eyes fixed on her, she glanced over her shoulders and then stared back at him, amazed that she could be the one he was advancing upon. He slid in next to her. She was smaller than she had looked, she just came up to his shoulders. She was wearing a black dress and black knee-high leather boots. He took her hand and started to move towards the dance floor. She resisted. "What are you doing?" She stared up at him with bewildered blue eyes.

"Come dance with me."

"I don't know how to dance like that," she laughed nervously, glancing at the bodies moving and throbbing on the dance floor.

"Yes you do."

He pulled her through the crowd, walking backwards so he could keep his eyes on hers. All she could do was stare. Once they were in the middle of the dance floor he pulled her up close to him and started to move against her. She was stiff at first, and then gradually the stiffness melted away and she moved with him, followed him. They moved faster, their motions becoming larger, harder. He felt her lose herself, give herself up to him, trust him with very inch of flesh that she had pressed up against his body. And it was all he could do to keep himself from losing control and trying to fuck her right there.

He pressed his mouth up close to her ear and said, "Come outside with me." She gazed at him with dreamy, half closed eyes, and gave him a slight nod 'Yes'. Their bodies loose and sweaty, he took her by the hand and led her through the crowd again, this time to the door. The bouncer smiled at her as they left, but didn't seem to see the man she was with. He had slipped through the mob of dancers without one of them turning their head to look at him. Like he wasn't even there.

He led her to the back of the parking lot, to a shiny black 1950's style car. He opened the door, keeping his hand on her back as she stepped into the back seat. He stepped in after her and shut the door quietly behind them. Even with the doors closed and the widows rolled up the clubs music made the floor vibrate slightly beneath their feet. He could see her better now. She was wearing red, he realized. A deep rich red that had apeared black in the club. Her skin was so pale against that fabric.

The girl reached up with a small hand and touched his face. "You're cold," she said in a sweet, puzzled tone that perfectly matched the way she looked at him. Sweet and puzzled. He pressed his cheek against her hand, feeling it's warmth. She was buring hot from dancing, her breathing a little heavy. He pulled her hand down and pressed it into his chest, right over his heart. Then, with her gazing at him in bewilderment, he leaned over and pressed his mouth against hers. She shifted beneath him, making it easier for him to lay ontop of her. He loved that wilingness, the way that she moved that told him he could do anything he wanted.

He moved his hands over her body, slowly, but roughly. She squirmed slightly under him. Then he grabbed her wrists and pressed her hard into the seat, kissed her deeply, heavily, mashing his mouth into hers, grinding his hips into her. She made a little, high pitched sound and pushed away from him. He let her mouth go. She gave him that puzzled stare and said "That hurts. Gently." He nodded and lightly brushed her hair away from her neck. He licked his lips and pressed his mouth against the hot flesh at the base of her throat.

Suddenly he felt an intense sharp pain in his chest. He lept away from her, gasping for air. He stared at her desperately, his eyes pleading for her to help. She lay still on the car seat, her hand covered in blood, a smile threatening to appear at the corner of her mouth. The tip of one sharp pointed tooth peeked out from behind her smiling lips. He looked down and saw the blade and handle of a knife sticking through the shiny fabric of his shirt. She had pushed the blade up under his rib cage, peircing one of his lungs. He could feel blood slowly bubbling into his lungs as he breathed. The girl propped herself up on her elbows and spoke, "Sorry about that. I've got a neck thing."

His eyes darted around the car, he tried to reach the door handle but she pulled him back. "I don't think so Don Libido. It's not nice to be that rough with a girl you just met, especially without consulting her about it. It's not like I'm a prude or anything, I don't mind whippin' out the leather G-strings and ping pong paddles every now and then, but you didn't ask if all of that manhandling you were doing was okay with me, and that, my friend, is just downright rude."

The blood in his lungs was bubbling up his throat into his mouth. He was making a horrible gurguling noise whenever he breathed. His chest convusled as he struggled for air. She wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb, cleaning away some smudged lipstick and got up on her knees, slinging her arms around his neck. "Hopefully," she said, placing her hand on the handle of the knife. "You've learned your lesson." With that she pushed the rest of the blade into his chest and kissed him firmly on the mouth, just as blood started to trickle down his chin.

She held him tight, his body seizing against her. Once he stopped moving she let go of him and let his limp body sit with it's back to the window on the other side of the car. The girl put her foot on his chest and held the body against the window as she pulled her knife out of him. She wipped the blood off on the apolstery and slid it into her boot, then turned on one of the lights and assesed herself. "Damn it," she breathed. "You bled all over my dress." She kicked the corpse's head and it slumped into the foot well.

She got a Kleenex from her purse and wipped away any traces of blood from her face and blotted at her dress. She reached into the corpses pocket and took out his wallet. "Michael Harper," the girl said, looking over his drivers lisence. "26? A little old for picking up strange young girls, aren't ya? Hmm?" She pulled out all of the bills and left everything else, then tossed the wallet into the back seat.

She took the car keys and jumped behind the wheel. The car started almost effortlessly, and then the girl paused for a moment, checking all of the radio stations. She settled on a College station.

"It's 2:36 am in Sunnydale on this lovely June morning, or night, whatever you wanna call it. Most of us will be heading off to work or school in a few hours, so just as I sign off to get a few winks before my Modern Civ. class, here's one of my favourite tunes by a french artist. This is-Mitsou with BYE BYE MON COWBOY."

Painfully cheesy pop music started up and she smirked and cranked up the volume, singing along. "Bye bye! Mon Cowboy!! Bye bye mon Giggalo!!!" Just as she had sung the last line she glanced in the rear view mirror at the Playboy's corpse slumped over on the car floor and started to laugh.

Clouds of dust billowed up behind the car as it tore out of the parking lot and sped off towards Sunnydale.